Iniquity
by Hollow Assassin
Summary: ."It was then that I realized that the werewolves had never been what I had been sent to fight. The true enemy lay behind these very walls." R&R! ON HOLD! Sorry guys.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Not mine! Not mine.**

**A/N: Hi, everybody. It's been a long time, hasn't it? Anyway, my new and current obsession is Van Helsing, and so this fan fiction was born! Hope you all enjoy it, and please leave me some feedback. They're incredibly inspirational.**

_Iniquity_

**Prologue**

Gabriel Van Helsing sucked in a shaky breath as he prepared to charge through the streets toward the mansion on the west side of the city of Rome. This mission was very different from what he was used to. This time, he had to face a different kind of monster; one that was very mortal, very deadly, and very, very human.

Creatures of the night, hulking things with the characteristics of a bat ad an unsurprisingly bad attitude, that was what Van Helsing was used to. He didn't interact well with people because he never really had a reason to do so. He did not possess the charm, nor was he amiable enough to attract anyone's positive attention. The only things he seemed to be able to attract were pitchforks and bullets when it came to people.

Luckily, charm and amiability were not needed this night. You didn't need to be pleasant when you killed someone, especially when they are a raving psychopath plotting on blowing up his family. And you needn't charm said family to get them out of the danger zone, either. He guessed that his job was easier in that respect than in others, but he liked to avoid contact with people all together, if he could.

Perhaps it was because of his anti-socialism, or maybe the fact that he sensed something dark at work, but regardless of the reason, Van Helsing was nervous. He traveled down the reeking backstreet with caution, and he could feel a cold sweat bead upon his brow. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

He tried to remember the conversation back at headquarters in its entirity. Going over the plan had always helped him calm down. Tonight was no different.

"_Mr. King's family is currently staying at their business partner, Mario Lugosi's mansion," Carl had told him while he'd been preparing for his mission. "It's in Rome, so you'll be back home in time for breakfast!" This cheerful comment did not lighten Gabriel's mood, but if Carl noticed his friend's glum expression, he said nothing about it. He handed the monster hunter a map guiding him to the target home._

_Van Helsing took the piece of parchment into his own hands and folded it into squares before replying, "Great. Now I have to be the most wanted man in Italy, too?"_

"_You're already the most wanted man in Italy," the friar pointed out, reminding him that Italy was, in fact, a part of Europe._

"_I know, I know, but I've never actually 'committed a crime' in Italy. Now my home country's going to hate me even more."_

"_Well, there's no one else to do it."_

"_Why don't the police do it?" Van Helsing asked spitefully. He did not enjoy doing another man's job, especially when that man could just as easily do it himself, and he did not hold the lazy in high regard, seeing as how slothfulness was one of the deadly sins._

"_The police don't know about it," Carl patiently explained, by now all too aware of his friend's gloomy countenance._

"_They why don't we __tell__ them?"_

"_Because we don't exist."_

_Because we don't exist._ Of course, he had to have that answer slap him in the face yet again. Why hadn't he seen that coming? He only heard it before and after every mission he went on, which infuriated him to no end. It was a good reason, as logical as it was metaphorical, and it shot down any argument he made, and made way for far too many injustices done by him.

This, however, was something he had to accept. This was his job now, and he couldn't very well do anything else; not if he wanted to regain his past. So he put up with this half-existence, and took the mission with little more hesitation or contempt than a vulture does a soured carcass.

With a sigh, he shook his head. Rather than calming him down, the memories were only making him angry and distracted. He pushed himself forward, dashing through the darkened streets of Italy.

But still, as he ran through the dead silent streets, he was even more acutely aware of this half-life that he lived. No one saw him now as he darted off to commit an act of good, to protect them as they slept. Their heads were turned for now, and they ignored his valiant efforts to keep their chaotic world in order. But as soon as the body was found, they would point the finger at him and shout accusations of, "murderer," among other things. Then they'd mourn over the body of a crazed killer, and wish Van Helsing an early grave.

Only once had he ever been thanked for saving the lives of others. It had been recently, on his last mission. He had just slain the dreaded Count Dracula, the son of the devil, and for the first time in those long seven years, his name had been cheered. The people of Transylvania, specifically the town of Vaseria, had pat him on the back in their gratitude, and offered him their love and acceptance.

He had not been able to celebrate then, however, because he felt more like a murderer than a hero. His lovely Anna had been killed by his hand, and whether he'd been himself at the time or not was irrelevant. She was dead, and he could not forgive himself for what had happened.

The painful, unbidden memory startled him so much that it brought him to a complete halt. He hadn't thought about that in a long while. He thought of Anna frequently, sure, but he'd blocked her death from his mind, as if it had never had even happened, and that he would in a literal sense, "see her again." But the memory's sudden return stung bitterly. She was gone, and she wasn't coming back. If he went back to Vaseria, she would not be waiting for him there. She wouldn't smile at him and ask him how he'd been, and he couldn't pull her close and tell her how much he'd missed her.

The gaping maw of a wound in his chest was open again, and even though he could not see it, it burned with as clear a pain as if he'd been struck back a double-edged sword hot from the coals.

A loud, cracking sound jerked Van Helsing painfully out of his trance. His eyes swept the area, landing upon the roof of the Lugosi mansion. Something wasn't right… If it had been quiet before, it was a deafening roar in comparison to the silence that plagued the area now.

Was it the calm before the storm?

Yes, it was. He could feel it- it was something that he was used to, but he'd never felt it at such an intensity as this. He took off running down the streets yet again, a flash of worry upon his face.

He was going to fail.

The flames didn't come as a shock or surprise, but the surge of noise made him cringe. Heat and wind barated him, pushing him back as the mansion exploded. The wood and glass melted away in the heat, leaving only a blinding light in its place.

He was too late; the mansion and the family inside it were gone in a pillar of flame and burning hatred. The stink of defeat stung his nose as it mixed with the smoke and gun powder and sweat.

Still, he pushed on, ducking past fallen beams and dodging stray fires. Logic told him that no one could have survived that explosion, but hope would not leave him alone. Something tugged him forward, as if he were being pulled by an invisible rope.

He sucked in a breath of air in order to call out, but only choked on the smog that now swallowed him. He dropped to his knees, coughing and gasping. It was a good thing this happened, for he would not have seen the girl otherwise.

She couldn't be older than eight, though it was hard to tell because her rounded face was smudged and beaten and stained with tears. Her blonde mop was a mass of knots and sweat, and her once-pink dress was torn and stained. She lay not a foot away from him, her eyes closed, the small abrasion on the side of her head bleeding onto the pavement. Her chest rose and fell as the smoky air filled and escaped her lungs.

He stared at her for only a second before scooping her up into his arms and than dashing back in the direction of the Vatican. By divine providence, he had managed to save at least one person that night; the mission was not a complete loss, thank God. Now all he had to do was make sure the girl lived. She didn't seem to have many wounds, and none of them looked fatal, but one could never be certain…

Van Helsing retreated into the darkness as the people began to poke their heads out of their windows to watch the house burn. As he escaped, the air grew colder around him, but the heat of the fire burned away at him even as he entered the cathedral.

**A/N: Well, that's it for the prologue. I know it's confusing, but bear with me. All will be explained in due time, so don't panic, okay? I've even already started the first chapter, so it shouldn't be long before an update. Not making any promises, though.**

**Anyway, if you enjoyed it or think that it could be improved, please let me know! I love getting reviews from my readers and I'm excited to hear what you all think!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. One, Two, A Warning For You

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

**A/N: Hello again. Sorry it's been so long.. I got hung up on reading both Breaking Dawn and the Maximum Ride novels. Whoops. Anyway, I also went through a small case of writers block, which is never any fun. But after forcing my muse to come out from under my bed, I managed to come up with the first true chapter of Iniquity. Hope you enjoy it!**

_Iniquity_

**Chapter One:**

**One, Two, A Warning For You…**

Sometimes, I wonder why I'm here. Like, what's my purpose? Why am I living? Why did I survive that explosion, and not my family? Why couldn't they be here with me now?

_Why did they have to die?_

I don't enjoy being alone; it's hard and painful. I grew up in the Vatican since I was eight, after my mother and brother died when the Lugosi mansion burst into flames, but that doesn't make it any easier. I wish I had some family to run to when I needed help or some comfort, some real blood-relations, you know? But I guess that's too much to ask for.

You'd never catch me admitting this out loud. Van Helsing would never let me live it down; no one would, really. I'd be seen as a weakling, a nobody, and I'm no nobody.

I yawned. Last night had been nightmare after nightmare. That was the price to be paid in my line of work. You think the coppers have it bad? Try hunting monsters instead of humans sometime. See what that does to your brain.

Munching on some bread and cheese, I sat at a small table in the corner of my room. It wasn't a big breakfast, but it was all my stomach could handle at the moment. Sleepless nights will do that to a person, tie their stomach up in knots. Especially when those nights are filled with dreams about a thousand different people dieing a thousand different ways. Still, I forced myself to eat the food; I'd need my strength later.

After breakfast, I got dressed. As per usual, I wore all black, or at least, as much black as possible. A midnight blue top with puffy sleeves was the only color on me that day, and most of the shirt was covered by my black corset. The rest of the outfit consisted of a long black trench coat, black pants, and knee-high, soft-soled boots.

I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. The twin Mina King stared back at me, her brown eyes looking rather bemused. Her blonde hair fell about her shoulders, curling slightly as it had yet to be brushed. With a sigh, I turned away from the mirror me and continued to prepare for the day. I ran a comb through my hair, straightening out the kinks and what-not. I didn't bother with make-up; werewolves and other creatures tended not to care if their prey were pretty enough to eat.

There was a knock at the door, and I sighed again. "Who is it?" I called, my voice chiming like bells. I hated my voice; it's hard to sound mean and terrifying when you have a voice like mine, and one of the best known tactics was to scare your opponent before it could scare you.

"Mina," Carl called tentatively. "Can I come in…?"

Good, old Carl: quiet as a mouse, scared as a cat. "Yeah, sure. Come on in," I said, grabbing hold of a couple of sacks that lay beside my dresser. I used them to carry weapons and the necessities when I went on missions; it was a little trick that Van Helsing had taught me when I was in training.

The friar scuttled inside and closed the door behind him. After ten years, you'd think he'd have made it to "monk" by now. "I see you're already getting ready," he muttered as he turned to look at me. Then he made a face as he gazed about the room. "This place is a---"

"Yeah, I know," I grumbled. "I haven't exactly had time to clean up after myself, what with Jinette flinging me to God-knows-where every chance he gets."

"It's _Cardinal_ Jinette, Mina. Show some respect," he chastised.

I rolled my eyes, but he couldn't see because my back was turned to him. "Sure, sure," I said, but it was kind of hard to show any respect to a man with a woman's name, if you get my point…

"Anyway, you won't be going alone this time, right?" Carl continued on. "You said something about Elvric Sallow accompanying you?"

"Yes," I replied, pursing my lips. "Mr. Doom-n-gloom will by coming along to rain upon my parade."

"Well, it's certainly better than going alone. The world seems to be _teeming_ with monsters these days. Especially in---"

"Transylvania," I finished for him. "Where I'm going."

He frowned. "Yes… Mina, you be careful, alright?"

"I know, I know. You were there ten years ago with Van Helsing and you both nearly died trying to stop some evil vampire. Don't worry, Carl. Dracula's dead now."

"Just be _careful_," he said again, more firmly. This was rather uncharacteristic of him. I'd never seen him so insistent, so strict before, so I backed off.

"Alright," I said, confused. "Okay, I'll be a good girl and mind my manners."

He scowled. "Be sure that you do." I could see the worry in his brown eyes, the fear. It wasn't the normal, ditzy fear that was always there; it was the serious kind of fear. It was the kind of fear that sent a dozen red flags up in my head.

I was headed into dangerous territory, that was for sure.


	3. If ya ain't got nothin' nice to say

**A/N: Another chapter already! Yay! I'm on a roll! Here it is…**

**Disclaimer: Common sense, guys; if I owned it, it wouldn't be here. It'd be a sequel, trust me.**

Iniquity

Chapter Two:

If ya ain't got nothin' nice to say…

After only about an hour, Elvric Sallow's negativity was starting to get on my nerves. It was always, "I hate this," or, "I hate that." And when he _wasn't_ complaining, he wasn't talking at all, which took up the majority of the time.

Needless to say, he wasn't the most fascinating conversational companion.

We had left Rome only about an hour ago, and already I was about to blow my top. I resisted, for fear of getting blood everywhere. Elvric's blood, of course.

"Look," I growled as we made our way down the wide path, "if you don't want to come, you can just head back the way we came. I never asked you to come- I don't need your help. Especially if you're going to be complaining the entire time!" That's me: beat-around-the-bush Mina.

He scoffed. "Oh, yes. I'd run along back home and tell Cardinal Jinette that I didn't want to go in the first place. I'm sure he'd just _love_ that."

I felt heat rise to my face and I sent him a side-ways glare. Of course, he had to be right. The voice of reason. Whoop-dido.

For being such an annoying little git, Elvric was incredibly handsome. I _might_ have actually liked him, what with his olive-toned skin, straight black hair that grazed his broad shoulders, golden eyes that seemed to smolder when I looked into them, his tall, muscular build, and his strong features, but his oh-so-_cheery_ personality was less than charming. Because handsome or no, he was still an annoying little git.

"Fine then," I said. "But if you're going to stay, learn to say something nice, or nothing at all! Sheesh, you're driving me up the proverbial wall!"

"Fair enough," he replied, and then lapsed into silence.

I huffed. Sure, El, take the easy way out of the conversation.

The Italian countryside stretched out before us. I've got to say: even with Mr. Doom-n-Gloom tagging along, this made it all worth the while. It was absolutely gorgeous. Vineyards combed the hills, which were topped with old villas painted white with sunshine. Fields of yellow wheat waved at us in the wind, and the green trees echoed their greeting. The birds danced happily through the air, twittering their beautiful songs above our heads.

Elvric opened his mouth.

"You ruin my moment," I warned, "and I'll bite your head off."

His mouth closed, and his lips pressed into a thin, white line. I grinned, glad that I'd found a way to keep him quiet. Then he opened his trap yet again and my smile disappeared.

"I was just going to say," he growled, ignoring my heated glare, "that this isn't so bad…"

I blinked. "Oh," I said, taken aback. "Sorry…" Quickly, I turned back to the scenery in order to hide the embarrassed blush that warmed my cheeks. I urged my horse onward. "Come on; we need to reach the city by morning."

"Who put _you_ in charge?" Elvric growled from behind. "But I guess you're right," he amended before I could make a snide remark. "Lido di Ostia won't wait for long."

The Italian city's name rolled easily off of his tongue, despite his thick Bulgarian accent. I silently wished I was able to do the same, but for the life of me, no matter how hard I tried, Italian always stumped me. I could never pronounce it right. Perhaps it was the Irish accent?

"Or at least," I replied lamely, "the ship won't wait for us…"

The _Hellion_, which was our ship's name (wasn't such a name considered unlucky by superstitious sailors? Odd that they would name their ship such a thing…), would carry us from the port of Lido di Ostia, around both Greece and Italy, through two narrow channels and the Sea of Marmara, into the Black Sea, and we would dock at Constanta, Romania. From there, we would continue on horseback, or by carriage if we had the money for such a luxury, to the town of Vaseria, on the other side of the country.

It was going to be a long, long trip.

"Elvric, how long do you think it will take the _Hellion _to get from Lido di Ostia" - here I winced as I mangled the supposed-to-be-beautiful name- "to Constanta?" You'd think after about thirteen years of living in Rome, I'd learn how to pronounce the language properly…

"About three weeks, but it all depends on the wind," he replied. "If not three weeks, probably four. Not too long. Why, haven't you been on a boat before?" he quizzed.

"Sure, I have!" I said, indignant.

"For how long, exactly?"

I hesitated, my false confidence faltering at the ugly truth. "…An hour or two," I admitted quietly. It never took long to take a joy ride across the Adriatic Sea…

Quirking an eyebrow, he smirked and settled back in his saddle. "Boy, are _you_ in for a surprise."


	4. Be A Doll And Shoot Him, Will You?

**A/N: 'Ello, guv! I'm back again with another chapter! Huzzah! Anyway, it's more of a transitional chapter, but a lot of stuff happens, too.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Shouldn't have to tell you.**

Iniquity

Chapter Three:

Be A Doll And Shoot Him, Will You?

And what an ugly surprise it was. Not only did it seem to take us years rather than weeks to reach our destination, it just so happens that I tend to get violently sea-sick with even the slightest tilt of the vessel. Now _I_ was the one complaining. Loudly.

"I hate Jinette," I slurred before upchucking some of my lunch into the ocean.

Elvric made a face at the disgusting noises that came from me. "So do I," he said, and I immediately knew that his reasons for hating the cardinal were very different from my own.

"I hate throwing up," I lamented.

"So do I."

"I hate the ocean."

"So do I."

I was glad we had at least a few things in common. At least we were finally having a real conversation. Sort of.

I heaved. "I hate Cardinal Jinette."

"You said that one already," he reminded me.

I frowned. "Did I?"

He nodded and lounged against a barrel beside the rail, arms crossed over his chest. I groaned.

"Don't worry, lass!" a crass sailor with an over-abundance of facial hair and one missing tooth laughed, giving my back a hard slap. "You'll get yer sea legs soon 'nough!"

If getting my sea legs was going to make me look or act anything like him, I'd gladly have continued to toss my cookies until all of my internal organs went with them.

However, I did my best to smile up at him, trying not to wrinkle my nose at the foul stench of his breath. "Sure, sure," I said, hoping he'd go away and leave me to my less-than-enjoyable business.

No such luck. "Why, it took me only two days before I gots me sea legs!" he boomed, breathing again on my face. The burning scent of alcohol made me whirl away from him and wretch over the rail.

"Leo," Elvric said coolly, catching the old sailor's attention. "Is there anything that could perhaps relieve Miss King of her sickness? Even for just a moment?"

"Well, I don' know," Leo the alcoholic barked. "I'll go check real quick." And with that said, he ran down below deck.

"Thanks," I breathed, wiping an arm across my mouth as I slumped back to the deck. I was spent.

Elvric shrugged and then smiled. "He was getting on my nerves, too," he admitted. "But he's right- you'll get used to it eventually. Then you'll be climbing the rigging like a spider monkey."

"Why can't I turn into a primate _now_?" I begged. He merely chuckled.

But they both were right. Within the first three days, I was back on my feet. Though I wasn't allowed to climb around the ship like a lemur, I was able to entertain myself in other ways. There weren't many things to do, but for three weeks, I managed to stave off the threat of boredom.

The weeks went by slowly, but we were eventually docked and on good old foreign soil. I resisted the powerful urge to jump for joy, and I could tell that Elvric was fighting a smile.

Romania was a pretty little country- there were trees and flowers of every kind I could imagine. There were purple, snow-capped peeks in the northwest, as well as the southwest. Later we would see rivers flowing through the forests and beside the gravel roads. The air was sweet and fragrant, and the summer sun shone brightly down upon our heads.

Even the horses we rented were strong and beautiful, their fur pulled tightly over their burly muscles. Power was packed into those creatures; I could tell just by looking at them. I couldn't wait to get in the saddle and feel the wind on my face while those beautiful beasts carried us deeper into the Eastern European country.

We paid the captain handsomely and then were on our way. Just as Carl had told me before we left, Transylvanian horses were the fastest creatures I'd ever ridden. The speed was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and it made the trip much more enjoyable. It also cut the time in half.

I couldn't tell if Elvric was enjoying himself or not, because his face was carefully composed into an impassive mask. As if it would kill him to show some emotion…

I imagine that he did enjoy himself, though, because when I announced that we had enough money for a carriage, he voted that we continue to ride the horses, at least until we reach our first stop. I agreed, and we raced through the countryside yet again. I imagine that the horses could go on for hours more before they grew tired, so I didn't worry.

We arrived at our stop, Brasov, at around nightfall. Under normal circumstances, we would have continued on for a few more hours, but not only Carl, but the cardinal and Van Helsing all told us to be inside before sunset, that there were dangerous things lurking about in Romania at night. I personally thought that they were just paranoid. Years upon years of monster hunting will do that to you. But what it will also do to you is prepare you for anything. I felt that we should ignore their orders and keep going, but Elvric, ever the Voice of Reason, stopped me.

"Mina, they've been here before," he had said. "They know what lurks out here in these parts. I say we trust them on this."

Of course, I didn't have any choice but to give in. Gosh, I hate it when he's right!

The inn we stayed at was a quaint little thing with just a few rooms, and it was only about as big as a small two-story cottage. It was cute, though, for lack of a better word. Cute and cozy and warm, just like a nice, soft bed.

This was going to be the safest we were going to feel for a long while. Both Elvric and I knew it. But neither of us said anything about it. Tomorrow, we would ride to Vaseria, and there the hunt would begin.

Now, originally, I said that we were monster hunters. Well, that's only a half-truth. You see, Elvric and I hunt only werewolves. That was what we had been trained for most of our lives, and it was our profession. Not only that, it took a lot of weight off of Van Helsing's shoulders. Why only werewolves, you ask? Because Europe was full of 'em. Trust me, just killing werewolves was enough of a job. The average person didn't know it, but there were more than two hundred packs spread throughout the continent. And there were only two of us werewolf hunters. That's a hundred _packs_ a piece. Lovely life we lived, wasn't it?

But as long as we got to sleep in real beds now and then, and try to live like normal people for a day, it wasn't so bad. The few days when large balls of fur weren't trying to rip our heads off were pretty nice, and we couldn't help but be thankful for them.

Still, our job sucked.

And so there we were in our cozy, little beds in that cozy, little inn, living in the moment and dreading the hour we awoke the next day. We weren't looking forward to another fight to the death. We didn't want to throw ourselves in danger's path for a whole town full of faces we didn't know. But we had do, and we would. All because a little red birdie told us to.

Did I mention how much I hate that stupid cardinal?


	5. The Second Leg and an Unusual Meeting

_Iniquity_

**Chapter Four: The Second Leg of Our Journey and an Unusual Meeting**

Romania, as I have said, is a beautiful little country, despite what I had heard from the others. Of course, in the dead of winter, I'm sure the land had looked barren and sickly to Van Helsing, compared to how lively it was now in the height of summer. It was very enjoyable- the sunny days and warm winds were not something I got to experience all too often, so I cherished every moment I had with them.

However, as we drew nearer and nearer to our destination, the land began to wither and wilt away. It was at its worst in the shadow of the Carpathians- absolutely nothing grew there, as if some sort of toxic curse had been cast upon the earth, spoiling it as well as our moods.

Elvric was grim and quiet, something that was not unusual for his character. I didn't bother him about it as I ordinarily did, for I was feeling quite the same myself. This place had that aura- something evil had made the land ill, and it made my spine turn to ice.

"What happened to this place?" I whispered, eyeing the rocky wall of the mountain.

"What makes you think it hasn't always been this way?" he returned, keeping his eyes on the road. "Perhaps the soil is just bad here."

My horse gave a disapproving snort, and I couldn't help but agree. "Don't pretend to be optimistic. It doesn't suit you. Besides, there aren't any animals here, either. Not even a bird…"

"That's because there are no plants growing in this area. Without plants, lower animals like rabbits will not come to feed, and thus cannot be hunted by larger animals," he told me. "Food cycle."

Know-it-all.

We lapsed into silence then, and both of us were wary of our surroundings. Elvric's eyes swept over the barren plains now and then, and I made a point of knowing where my pistol was at all times. It was a small, pathetic looking thing that I carried around in case I couldn't reach my more powerful weapons. I hated using it, but oh well. A bullet's a bullet, after all.

We arrived in Vaseria shortly after noon. The air here was thick with all kinds of disgusting smells, some stale, others new. It was also muggy, and I could feel my bangs sticking to my dampened brow. I was quick to relieve myself of my trench coat, as did Elvric.

I don't know if it was the heat, or what, but the towns folk were not friendly. The glares they sent our way were like poison-tipped daggers, but one look from Mr. Doom-N-Gloom and they were sent a-skittering back into their holes. It helped to have someone like him around, I'll admit, no matter how annoying he can be.

So we marched through the town, unhindered by our not-so-happy hosts until we reached the fountain in the center of the square. It was a pretty piece of work, carved from bleached stone to look like the white marble ones back in Rome. Though it was a cheap imitation at best, it was a nice reprieve from the horrors of the village. However, it did not fit in, surrounded by the dark, sloping, and deteriorating buildings and homes. This little piece of what some would call art, I surmised, was better taken care of than the rest of the sorry village we now stood in. The water that flowed from it was clear as day, and I could see that in certain places on the structure were silver crosses engraved into the stone. It was a fountain of holy water, I guessed, blessed by the village priest in an effort to keep demonic creatures at bay.

It was at this fountain that we stopped and turned to face the growing crowd of grubby faces and cold eyes. As my gaze traveled from face to face, I also took further note of my surroundings. The town, as I have previously stated, was absolutely filthy. The houses could not be called houses but shacks, made from black, damp, and no doubt rotting planks of pine, as was every other building that made up the tiny village of Vaseria. The place smelled of cow and goat droppings mixed with soured hay and unchecked body odor, which was quite enough to remind my stomach of its little trip on the _Hellion_ not three days ago. Next to the fountain was a deep, dark hole in the ground framed by wood nailed into the brown earth. This could be no less than the well, as humble as it was, where the people drew their water for their daily lives. I could also see the tops of market stands over the heads of people in the crowd.

"This place," I muttered under my breath, "is positively medieval."

Elvric ignored my less-than-kind comment and addressed the Vaserians in his deep, commanding voice. "We are the Werewolf Hunters of the Holy Order. We have come to aid you with your pack problem."

A man with graying hair and a rather disturbing countenance stepped forward. He had very pointed, gnarled features and was garbed in earthy tones with black lining. He looked like nothing short of a con-man, and could be no younger than his late-fifties. "You look sturdy enough," he rasped, nodding to my raven-haired companion. Then his eyes turned onto me, a sadistic light glimmering dully in the black of them. I stiffened, knowing what was to come next. "But a pretty girl as dainty as she shouldn't be out on the battlefield. She could be put to… _better_ use here."

Bristling, I prepared to lunge for him, but Elvric stopped me, holding me back with a strong arm. I snarled at him first before noticing the dangerous gleam in his eyes as he glowered cruelly down at the frail, perverted man.

"How… considerate of you to show concern for her safety, kind sir," he growled, his voice lined with the whisper of a threat. "But I can assure you that she has no problem on the battlefield, as you call it. And I would appreciate it if you did not make such degrading comments about my companion."

Perhaps realizing that his life was in danger, the pervert quickly bowed out and dissolved into the crowd from whence he came. Every face was consumed with a mixture of fear, awe, and irritation.

Elvric's words had a knack for being polite and giving off an aura that held a dangerous promise for all who heard it at the same time. It was an amazing trick that to this day I cannot figure out how to perform, and after this little event, the villagers did not give us any more problems. I was exceedingly thankful for this, for there had been many a time when we had been chased out of the very city or town we'd been trying to protect by an angry mob. The fact that we only had a pack of werewolves to worry about was a great relief.

Since the Valerious family had died out ten years ago, a rich man from the west had bought and moved into their old castle. Because he was the richest person in the village, he was seen as the man in charge, so he was the one we were instructed to meet with.

I did not know why a man with class and money would move from busy, beautiful London to a dump like Vaseria, but the villagers sure didn't mind having him around. They spoke highly of him, saying that at first, they had not taken kindly to a foreigner controlling the town, but he had been so good to them during the three years he had lived there that they could not help but to grow to love him. There had been fewer and fewer deaths by monsters and crime, thanks to him strengthening their small militia, and the villagers were no longer starving. He had been so generous that he had purchased enough food and preservations from the nearest privileged town to feed the people of Vaseria for an entire six months _with his own money._ And he was working on fixing up the town so that it was livable- the fountain we saw earlier was the first of these renovations.

Sounded like a superman to me.

The old pervert led us up to Castle Valerious, which was high up on a hill on the outskirts of the town. We paused a moment to survey the roofs of the community below. It looked even more abandoned and unkempt than before, with the dark mountains surrounding it like a freezing cloak even in this hot weather. Just beyond Vaseria, at the base of the mountain across from us stood another castle, its windows dark and void of life. Beside it was an odd little clump of what looked like wood- a fallen building, perhaps?

"Enjoying the view?" The pervert grinned at me, his voice grating on my nerves. "That's Castle Frankenstein, that is. Used to be the home of a scientist-" he paused dramatically for the effect. Was he trying to scare me? It wasn't working, "-and a grave robber. He created a monster in that there chateau, and it killed him soon as it laid eyes on him. And it was said that the good ol' doc was in cahoots with Count Dracula the whole time! Imagine that!" Then he straightened, having leaned towards me in his excitement, and puffed out his chest with pride. "The town ran the monster the doc created out of the castle and into the mill. Then we burned it down with it inside! Was a great night, that was!"

"Sounds more like a nightmare," I morosely replied before I could stop myself.

The pervert gave me a strange look, and he was about to say something when someone said, "Telling local folktales again, Dai? You're not trying to scare the poor girl, are you?"

We all turned to look upon the approaching figure. El and I were prepared for a fight, as always, but upon glancing at the man and his words registered in our brains, we cooled down. This guy didn't seem hostile in the least.

In fact, he looked like an angel sent by God. He was ruggedly handsome, and though one of his unusual violet eyes had been viciously torn from him years ago and the spot was covered with scars, it did not distract from his beauty. He had long blonde hair that reached the small of his back even in its ponytail, and his golden bangs hid the scars almost completely. He was tall and lean, garbed in clothes fit for a prince with their whites and golds and crimsons. The coat was long and his boots knee-high, his pants tucked into the black leather. He wore a white vest with gold buttons and red lining, as well as a cravat with a ruby pin at the base of his strong throat. I had to force myself to look away and fought not to blush at his angelic looks.

He smiled at us, and I about melted right then and there. It was a smile that was so beautiful, it was criminal- something like that is just too magnificent to exist on this earth. His teeth were pearly white, not too large, not too small, all in a straight row of perfection. His one eye glittered with something akin to mirth, and I got the feeling that he was silently laughing at some inside joke that I hadn't caught. My heart felt like a tiny thunderstorm inside my chest.

"They're not folktales," Dai the pervert protested weakly. "It really happened- I was there."

The handsome newcomer made a small noise and turned his heavenly gaze onto me. He didn't bother looking at Elvric, though he addressed both of us. "Ah! You must be the Werewolf Hunters I sent for. I am very glad the Knights of the Holy Order agreed to help; the situation here has been most distressing." He shook both of our hands in turn- mine first, then Elvric's. His handshake was warm and firm, commanding but not unfriendly. "I am Paris Moriarti."

"I'm Mina King, and this," I pointed to Mr. Doom-N-Gloom (who was very much in the gloom mood at that moment) over my shoulder, "is Elvric Sallow."

"It is a pleasure to meet you both. Shall we go inside? It's dreadfully hot out here."

I couldn't help but agree, and the castle looked like it would be nice and cool on the inside. I cast a side-ways glance over at Elvric, who gave an affirmative grunt, and we were off.

The castle was large, but not overwhelmingly so. The stones were a whitish gray color and the whole place was well taken care of. It felt more like a palace than anything else, especially when we stepped inside. The rooms were all richly decorated and warmly lit, and it looked friendly, as if someone really lived there, though nothing seemed to be out of place. Paris fit well in this house, like the final piece to a very elaborate puzzle. The reds and golds and browns swirled about his snow-white form as he stood in the center of the room, his strong, yet gentle-looking hands clasped loosely behind his back. The whole scene looked like something out of a fairytale, complete with a prince and castle to boot. The magic spell he had placed over me was broken when he smoothly sank into one of the brown leather chairs and offered us a seat.

"I'll stand, thanks," Elvric growled as I took the chair nearest to the golden idol of a man.

I scowled, angry and taken aback by his bitter, distrustful tone. I was about to rebuke him for his hostility when Paris held up a hand and flashed me an understanding smile.

"It's quite alright," he said serenely. "He has no reason to trust me as of yet. He has a right to be on his guard, especially in this country. I, however, mean you no harm, I assure you."

"I suppose, but even so…" My eyes flicked to Elvric in order to see his reaction to Paris's kind pardon, but he still looked upon him with both disdain and suspicion. I sighed. "Never mind. I guess there's no changing him." That last part I muttered under my breath so that Elvric wouldn't hear, but he must have caught it anyway, because he immediately threw an icy glare at me.

Perhaps realizing that the path we were on would lead to an argument, Paris gracefully turned it on its head. "Now, now, we're all friends here. I'll have no petty arguments- not in _my_ house. Besides, we have business to attend to, yes?"

We were silent, so he took this as an answer to his question and clapped his gloved hands once. A young man with caramel-colored hair and emerald eyes as well as a cross-shaped scar on his cheek entered immediately from the hallway adjacent to the room, as if he'd been waiting there all along. Giving the boy a bored look, Paris ordered, "Caine, tea. And tell your sister to make enough of lunch for three- we have guests."

"Yes, sir… Shall I prepare a couple of rooms as well?"

"See that you do."

"Yes, sir." And, without bowing, the boy walked briskly from the room, as if he were trying to escape a fire.

"He's awful young to be a butler, ain't he?" Elvric asked, nodding to where the kid had disappeared.

"Oh, him?" Paris returned as if he had already forgotten Caine had been there. "No, no, no- he's just turned thirty."

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped. "Thirty?! I… I thought… I could have sworn that he was younger than me!"

"No, he's quite a bit older, actually. I take it you're twenty?"

"Nineteen."

"Yes, he looks a lot younger than he really is- it runs in their family. Odd, really. Never could figure it out." He shifted uncomfortably, and judging by the look on his face, he didn't like to talk about this Caine fellow. It seemed to agitate him very much, and he changed the subject again, "But that's a story for another time. Enough distractions; I have yet to tell you of your mission." Again, he paused to shift in his seat, his brow furrowing slightly. We watched him expectantly, waiting in silence for him to continue.

"Of course you are dealing with werewolves," he went on, "but this, I'm sure, is very different from your usual missions. Over the course of only a month, we have gone from dealing with only a sparse few of these beasts to a whole pack of sixty-some-odd wolves. Of course, we have our own ways of getting rid of them- the people of Vaseria have been fighting these creatures for centuries- but we cannot hope to destroy so many; we have already lost a number of our villagers to the pack. That's where you two come in." He paused once more when Caine returned, carrying a tray with three delicate cups of tea. Paris did not bother thanking him, and the boy- no… man- turned and left without a word. The only one of us three who did not pick up their cup and start drinking was Elvric. There really _was_ no changing him, was there?

"I know it seems impossible, but you won't be fighting alone," Paris said after he'd gulped down a mouthful of Oolong. "If you can train the villagers in your ways, even just a little bit, we will be able to help you fight these monsters."

The idea sounded like a good one; the more help we had, the better. And since the villagers would be trained, they would not get in the way of things. So we agreed, naturally. We'd do anything thing that'd make our job easier.

And so, with that matter settled, Elvric and I were shown to our rooms by Caine. This gave me a chance to observe him a bit more, for he had interested me greatly. His blatant disregard for manners and the feelings of others had caused me to take a great dislike to him, but once we were away from Paris, I noticed a change in him. Though he was still edgy and far from relaxed, he was quite a bit more cordial to Elvric and I. I thought him to be a nervous fellow, and Paris was someone who caused him both worry and grief, for whatever reason that may have been. Surely it could not have been Mr. Moriarti's fault, for he was the most agreeable person I had ever met. No, this nervousness was conceived by Caine, and him alone; he must have done something to cause a quarrel between the two of them, for I could think of nothing else happening to cause such a disturbance.

But after Elvric had been delivered to his room and Caine and I had reached my quarters, he took me aside and looked me dead in the eye. The gravity that was etched into his face like stone made my blood run cold as he spoke.

"You shouldn't have come here."

I stared at him, bewildered and silent. What had he meant by that?

"You don't understand the danger you have put yourself in by coming to Vaseria."

I bristled. "Look, if this is about my being female doing a man's job, forget it! I'm far more qualified for hunting than you realize-"

"It's not about that," he broke in calmly. "Your friend is in danger, too. Just as much as you are."

"Then why aren't you telling _him_?"

"Because he already knows."

Again, I was caught in confusion's grasp, trapped by his words.

We stood there in the quiet, richly furnished hall, simply staring at each other, saying everything and nothing at all, for what felt like ages. Then Paris's angelic voice sounded and Caine disappeared from sight to answer his master's call, leaving me alone in my growing pool of puzzlement.


	6. Of Ghastly Reveries

**Iniquity**

**Chapter Five: _Of Ghastly Reveries and Horrendous Reports_**

_My arm felt like it had been thrust into a pit of fire after being skewered with a hot poker. I could feel the cold grass beneath me, tickling my feverish cheek. I could not see much--my vision was so blurry it made me sick to my stomach. What was happening? I could remember something… a face, underneath a black hood… It looked so familiar, but the name would not surface from the depths of my mind. Then I remembered the flash of silver, followed by stabbing pain that sparked from my elbow and went both to my shoulder and to the tips of my fingers._

_Colors swirled about me; figures moved with violent motions in the distance, and I could hear the sounds of battle coming from not too far off. Snarls, teeth and claws ripping into flesh, cries and howls and screams of rage or agony… It was disorienting, and it made my already pounding head pulse to the point of explosion. _

_Then, all at once, everything died out. The sounds, the moving colors and shapes, all of it was gone, as if someone had flipped a switch to turn off the chaos. I tried to look around, to see who or what was around me, but of course, I could see nothing further than ten feet in front of me. Then I heard soft footsteps, drawing nearer and nearer ever so quietly, as if they feared harming the ground if they did not tip-toe. Even after they stopped beside my head, the sound of crunching grass echoed within in my mind. _

I don't feel so good . . . , _I thought, my sweat clinging to my skin like a sticky film. My right arm burned something terrible. _What's happening to me…?

_Freezing hands grabbed my screaming arm and lifted it slightly. Shocking pain spiked from my elbow to my fingertips, and I cried out in surprise. But the agony was quickly replaced with piercing, numbing cold. I began to calm down, and I could feel my fever declining at a rapid pace._

_Slowly, I opened my eyes again. My vision was still a little blurry, but I could make out the shape before me. It was human; or at least, it looked human. It wore an outfit that seemed to be cut from the night itself it was so black, and it matched its hair perfectly. There were two flecks of color set on either side of the figure's face--eyes. It said something; I didn't catch what it was that it told me, but I understood that it was a man by how deep the voice was. _Elvric?_-- No, those eyes didn't belong to my friend. The rich, flaming gold that belonged to Elvric's eyes was nowhere to be seen, and this face seemed to glow with icy orbs of sapphire. There was something in these eyes, too--death, hatred, pride, but above all, sorrow. They were very old, tired eyes that should not have belonged to the young man that presently knelt before me like a knight cut from darkness._

_Suddenly, he bent toward my arm. I let out a shriek upon discovering that it was covered in blood, the flesh in the crook of my elbow having been savagely torn and twisted and left to the open air by some cruel, sharp weapon. The skin around it was swollen and purple as if infected with some horrific disease, and I couldn't help but feel a sharp stab of fear. The first thought that went through my head was, _I'm going to lose my arm. _And so I tried to pull away from him, but his grip on me was firm, however gentle. He looked up at me and spoke again, and this time I understood what he was saying, though it was as if he was shouting something at me on the opposite side of a long tunnel._

"_Do not be afraid; no harm will come to you."_

_His voice was soft, yet his words had power behind them, and for a moment, I believed what he said. But then he bent forward over the wound again, his lips parting, and my blood ran cold. I had seen the long, glittering incisors sprout from his gums._

_He moved in closer, and my heart began to pound, one word screaming in my head and deep within my very soul. Instinct told me to run, to fight for my life, to do __something__ other than sit there, but I could not bring myself to so much as lift a finger. Whether it was fear or the fever that paralyzed me, I did not know, but even as those cold lips closed around my burning wound, I could not move a muscle._

_And then I felt it--fangs piercing flesh, and blood being drained from my veins._

With a shout, I bolted upright, my left fist swinging blindly in a violent arc and connecting with something firm. There was a muffled cry of alarm, and thinking that it had come from my deceitful attacker, I pulled my good arm back again to deliver a second blow.

"OW! Ow-ow-ow! What the blazes?! Mina! Mina, stop! It's me!"

My eyes snapped open and I was surprised to find Paris on the floor beside my bed-- my bed? When did I get into a bed?--knocked on his rear and holding his now smarting jaw. Though it was clear he was in some pain, his one eye was glittering with amusement.

"My word, woman! You've quite an arm there, you have! If that's how hard you hit in your sleep, I certainly don't want to cross you during the day" With a chuckle, he stood up and shook his head, still rubbing his chin. "But it's not very nice to hit someone who's trying to help you, I'll have you know."

Startled and a little ashamed, I averted my gaze. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I, uh… Was having a nightmare."

"Yes, I figured that much out on my own. Tell me, do you often dream about vampires sucking your blood?"

The question was innocent enough, but I felt blood rising to my face as my head snapped up to glare at him. "How did you know about that?!"

His shoulders shook with his laughter. "My dear girl, you only screamed it out loud before you punched me! I'd say it was pretty much obvious."

I relaxed with a groan. "Sorry…"

"Care to talk about it?" he asked, taking what most likely had been his seat before I'd knocked him out of it beside my bed and lifting my right arm. With an astonished cry of, "Ouch!" I angled my gaze downward to look at the sore appendage and was again pierced through the heart with a cold sense of dread. My elbow was heavily bandaged, a bloody blossom in the very spot the wound in my dream had been.

"Ah!" I cried, instinctively jerking away from Paris's grasp. I instantly regretted this action, for pain shot up from my elbow, through my shoulder, and down into my chest, making me feel rather light-headed.

"Careful! Careful…," the kind blonde soothed, gently grabbing my hand and pulling my arm straight again. "You've been stabbed; you shouldn't move your arm too much." At my questioning stare, he sighed. "Ah, you don't remember, do you?"

"No…"

Frowning, he began to unwrap the bandage. I deliberately stared up at his face and not down at the wound. I didn't care to see the awful sight again; the dream version was bad enough (though by now I was questioning if it even _was_ a dream). "So you don't remember anything? Not who stabbed you? Not the werewolves, or Elvric trying to save you?"

The horrific sounds from my "dream" came to mind, but they were quickly pushed aside when the last half of Paris's final sentence registered in my brain. "Elvric tried to save me?! From werewolves?! What is he, stupid? Where is he? I'd like to tell him a thing or two!"

An odd look came over his features, and that was when I understood.

"He didn't make it, did he?"

"Mina, I---"

"Well, did he?!"

"No! I mean… I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?!" I was nearing hysterics now. "What happened?! What in this godforsaken world is going on?!"

"Calm down, Mina! Just calm down. I'll explain everything, but you have to promise to keep your head, alright?"

I didn't like where this was going. At all. "Start from the beginning."

"Do you remember going on patrol?"

I thought about it. "Yes… A little bit…"

"After that, you and Elvric were separated somehow. I only know this because he came to me after hours of searching, asking for help in finding you." He paused. "I knew that he was really worried, because he wouldn't have come to me for help otherwise."

"I remember being lost in the woods," I told him. "I felt really stupid."

"That forest has a nasty habit of turning into a labyrinth at night. The villagers think that it's cursed, so it's no real wonder that you couldn't find your way. It happens to the best of us."

"So what happened when you helped Elvric find me?"

He smiled slightly, but it was a tired, sad smile. "We rallied some of the townspeople into a search party and headed out into the woods. We found you five minutes later in a clearing, lying in the field, surrounded by three or four werewolves. I didn't see any vampires, though."

"That's a relief," I joked, though neither of us laughed. "Then what?"

"Naturally, Elvric decided that the best way to get the werewolves away from you was to distract them, and he decided to be the bait. He successfully led them all away, but we haven't seen hide nor hair of him since. We've even sent out search parties, but they always come back empty-handed and missing a few members."

I knew this story wouldn't have a happy ending. I knew it all along, but hearing those words made some chord within me snap. "How long ago was that?"

"Two nights ago."

"Then he's in that forest. The pack wouldn't have moved yet; we still have time." I moved to stand up, but Paris gently pushed me back down.

"Time for what, Mina?" he questioned in a chastising tone that I didn't much care for. "He's either dead or one of them by now. There's no saving him!"

"You're wrong," I growled, glaring heatedly at him. "The pack moves with the coming of the full moon. If we can find him before then and get him back to the Vatican, he'll be okay! Carl is working on recreating Dracula's cure, and he's nearly there. He's come so far as to make a potion that will keep Elvric from completely transforming; it will keep it off for a few years if he drinks it every night. It can buy us some time."

"And if he's dead?"

Bile rose in my throat, and I couldn't help but feel angry that he'd even suggest the idea. "I don't want to think about that." My voice sounded pathetically small, conveying how I felt.

"You need to think about it, Mina."

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out and I had to close it. I tried again, but I knew that what he said was true, and there was nothing that I could say in retaliation, so I remained quiet. The silence that fell between us was like a suffocatingly thick blanket, and I found that I could not bring myself to look Paris in the eye as he resumed to unwrap my bandages. I felt my face grow hot, and my eyes began to burn, but that was as far as I would allow my tears to go. I would never let them rain from my chocolate-brown eyes.

"I will search for him," Paris suddenly announced. "You are not well enough to do so yourself." Replacing the bandages with new ones, he stood and gently took hold of my chin. He turned my face upward so that my gaze would meet his grave one. "I will return him to you; do not worry."

And then he was gone, my face still tingling where his tender fingers had touched it.


	7. Discoveries

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything except for Mina, Elvric, Paris, Caine, and Alizabeth.

**Iniquity**

Chapter Six: _Discoveries_

As soon as Paris left the room I stood on wobbly legs and made my way to the writing desk a few yards to my right. It was not that I did not trust his words and that he would keep his promise, but it was unrealistic to think that I could take on a whole werewolf pack alone. The odds had been ghastly even when I had Elvric by my side; without him, I did not even stand a chance. I needed back-up--and not the angry villagers armed with pitchforks kind--I needed professional help that only the Holy Order could give. So I wrote a letter containing the details of my four-days in Vaseria and requesting any type of help that the Order could possibly spare. It was short, but certainly meaningful in more ways than one.

I had just sealed the envelope when one of the servants came in with a tray of food consisting of a bowl of soup, a piece of bread, and a glass of milk. She had caramel-colored hair like Caine that was bound in tight, happy little curls and pulled back out of her face by a headband, and she shared his green-eyes and ageless looks. She stopped short when she saw me at the desk with the letter in my hand.

"Hello," I greeted, standing slowly, careful not to fall over. My muscles were not quite as awake as I was as of that moment, and it felt more like standing on noodles rather than a pair of legs. "Are you Caine's sister?"

She nodded, her curls bounding. "We're twins." She smiled at me, but I could tell that it was forced. "You must be Mina. I've heard an awful lot about you. Come, sit down on your bed and have something to eat. You must be starving."

"Yes, thank you." And I wobbled back to the four-poster, crawling up and under the covers. "I'm Mina," I said, and then immediately felt stupid for saying it. She had just told me she knew who I was after all. "Sorry. I guess I've not gotten myself put back together quite yet…"

But she smiled again. "Two days of being unconscious will do that to you. I'm Alizabeth, with an 'A'." She set the tray on my lap before pointing to the letter I still had clenched in my hand. "Would you like me to give that to the master for you? He's going into town to send his own mail; I'm sure he wouldn't mind taking that for you, too."

I stared at her questioningly. "Paris does that kind of thing for himself? I mean, no offense, but what about you and your brother? Isn't that what you are here for?"

Alizabeth (with an 'A') smiled away. I was beginning to think that it was permanently stuck that way. "Oh, the master doesn't like to rely completely on us. Sometimes he does a chore or two on his own. He says that it keeps him from going mad with nothing to do." She giggled and took the letter from me as she said this, and there was a glow about her that made me realize that she was as much in love with the man as I was. "I'll make sure he gets this to the post for you."

Doing my best not to let my jealousy and competitiveness show on my face, I replied, "Thank you. I very much appreciate it."

She practically left the room at a skip, no doubt excited to see her precious master again. It probably would have sickened me if I did not feel the same way about him. With drooping shoulders, I ate my meal half-heartedly, my mind awash with confusion, love, and heart-ache.

By the next day, I was feeling well enough to explore the castle, which I had yet to do. It was a large enough place, but it did not take all day to see its sights. It was filled with many unused rooms (all of which were in pristine condition, of course), an armory, a library, and of course the basics such as the bed chambers, lavatories, the kitchen, the dining hall, and the like.

The last place I stumbled upon was Paris's private study. I knew it was his own personal space because he had left his white and crimson coat hanging on the back of the chair behind the desk. The room also had a scent to it--cologne, his cologne--that confirmed my suspicions. However, he was no where to be found. He must have stepped out for a moment, I assumed, to catch a bit of fresh air. It was, after all, awfully stuffy.

I moved towards the window to open it and air out the room only to have a gust of wind blow in and scatter the papers on the desk and the ashes in the fireplace. With a curse, I slammed the window shut and went about cleaning up the mess I had made. Scooping up the documents that littered the floor and doing my best to stack them in a nice, neat pile, I went to place them on the desk when something slipped out from between the papers and onto the floor. Upon further inspection, I found that it was an envelope; my envelope, addressed to the cardinal.

It was open, and it was empty.

A lump formed in my throat and my heart felt like it had been ripped right from my chest. "Why that good-fer-nothin' eejit!" She had read my letter! That little snot had opened up my letter! I knew we were both falling for the same man, but to stoop to something so low…!

Then my eye caught something crumpled and white in the ashes scattered upon the floor. The stack of papers forgotten, I dropped to all fours, snatching up the crumpled and burnt parchment as my soul filled with dread. The words were smudged a little bit, but I could read it well enough.

"_to be quite frank. We cannot do this alone--I cannot do this alone. Without Elvric there is no chance of"_

My letter. It was _my letter_! Alizabeth with an 'A'must have come in here to deliver the letter the day prior, saw that Paris was no where in sight, and then let her jealousy overcome her. She had thrown my letter into the fire after reading it! But then I stopped in my anger; it made no sense for her to feed my note to the flames. If she had really read it, which she probably did, she would have put it back because she would have wanted me out of her life and away from Paris as soon as possible. And if that was truly the case, then who else could have…?

My heart sank. No. No, I would not believe what the facts were telling me. He would never have done such a thing, not to me, not to anybody! Paris was a kind man, a gentle soul. And the danger was so great; he would never have put the entire village at risk. So that theory made no sense, either. Calming down, I let my heart settle back within my chest. Someone else had done it. I did not know who, but it had been someone else.

But that did not make anything less dangerous. Someone knew that I needed help with this mission, and they did not want me to get it. The whole village was in danger as well as myself. It was then that I realized that the werewolves had never been what I had been sent to fight. The true enemy lay behind these very walls.

This was bad. Very, _very_ bad.

_Okay, Mina,_ I told myself silently. _Clean everything up and act like nothing happened, and we'll take it from there… Right, okay…_

Slowly standing, I obeyed my own orders, sweeping the ashes and the fragmented parchment back into the fireplace as if nothing had changed and slipping the empty envelope into the middle of the stack of papers. It was just in time too, for my ears caught the sound of approaching footfalls. My heart was beating away like a drum and I could hardly think as I busied myself with looking at the pictures on the north wall, looking as innocent and relaxed as I could manage.

Paris's surprised mumble of, "Oh!" made me jump regardless of how prepared I was, and I returned his exclamation with one of my own. I whirled to face him and we stared at each other silently for a long while, wide-eyed and stony-faced, before he broke out that crooked smile of his.

"Exploring?" he asked casually.

I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks in a blush. "Yes… I'm sorry--I thought--well, I didn't know that this was--"

"It's quite alright, quite alright," he chuckled as he seated himself in his chair, leaning with his elbows on the desk. Then his expression darkened suddenly, becoming drawn and tired. "I was meaning to send for you anyway…"

I felt my mouth go dry. My plans of telling him of my discovery would have to wait. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice grave. "I just returned from the village center. I am afraid we have another crisis on our hands. There was a girl found at Vaseria's gates, dead. Poor soul had been sucked dry."

My eyes widened. "By a vampire?"

"What else?" he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We think it happened sometime last night or early this morning, before the sun had risen. Her body was cold, but had yet to begin to smell."

"How old was she?"

"My guess is fifteen or sixteen. She couldn't have been older than you."

"Her parents must be devastated!"

"I am afraid they don't know. No one in the village recognizes the girl; she must have come from the next nearest village… But that is still very far away, and I have no idea how she could have come all this way on her own."

"Perhaps she took a horse or a carriage? Or maybe she came with an escort and he was carried off by the vampire," I suggested. "And they wouldn't have feared traveling at night because there hasn't been a vampire in the area in just about ten years. And, according to what you told us in your letter five weeks ago, you made sure that word didn't get around about your werewolf problem, so…"

"Gods," he groaned. "They were sitting ducks… They would have only brought protection for other beasts… They weren't prepared for this."

"It's not your fault--don't blame yourself," I soothed upon seeing his shoulders sag. "We'll take care of things one small step at a time." Perhaps it was best not to say anything about the letter. If Paris were to try to confront the villain responsible, things could spiral out of control and jeopardize everything and everyone involved. "Let's think of something we can do."

He put a thoughtful hand to his chin, his fingers resting gently on his perfect lips. "I shall have one of my servants ride to the nearest village to deliver word of the girl's death. Here we will burn the body and---"

"Send me instead," I interrupted a little too quickly.

The look he gave me made it clear that he had not taken my suggestion seriously and I had to resist the urge to bite my lower lip in my nervousness. "Mina, you've only just started to recover. The man that attacked you could still be out there in that forest somewhere! And the wolves---"

"I hunt wolves," I interrupted again. "I'm feeling much better now, and I'll be prepared for anything that comes at me. I know what's out there; I won't end up like that girl. I can take care of myself."

"I'm not going to let you throw yourself into danger like that, Mina, not again. I just can't do that."

"Danger is my job," I said through a scowl. "It's what you hired me for."

He chuckled, but it was the sad sort of laughter--the kind of laughter made when one has given in even when they sorely do not wish to--and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Point taken."

"Besides, what am I asking you for? I'm a big girl; I can make decisions myself. I don't need your approval."

"True enough, true enough… Just… be careful. And don't go out after dark. If you get there and you don't have time to get back here before the sun sets, get a room at an inn there and stay the night. I don't want to have to come looking for you like last time."

I smiled softly. "It's nice to know that someone cares."

"Yes, well," he replied somewhat grouchily. "Obviously I don't care enough, or you wouldn't be going at all."

I laughed. "I'll see you in a couple of days."

As grumpy as he was he flashed me that heavenly, crooked smile of his. "Be sure that you do, love."

**A/N: "Eejit" is the Irish way of saying "idiot". At least, it is according to the internet. **:O **Also, there will be some action in the next chapter (finally)! I look forward to posting again soon!**


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